


hets i care abt (part 1)

by cosmonautic



Category: Strike Force Chimera
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmonautic/pseuds/cosmonautic
Summary: James moves back to the city.
Relationships: James Cerulean/Ember Wetherly





	hets i care abt (part 1)

James taps the screen of his communicator, trying to angle his arm closer to the train window. Still, the best reception he’s been able to get has been the SOS signifier and he’s not foolish enough to hope that his texts will be able to go through. Between how outdated the model is and the beating it received as he accidentally dropped it down the stairs in his rush to catch the train, he figures there’s not much life left in it. He checks his battery - only 30% charge left, and switches his attention to the announcement screen attached to the train ceiling. Only 15 minutes until arrival.

From his seat he can begin to see the skyline and the vague hint of the upcoming sunrise. His meeting is not for another three hours and he doesn’t have a charger, so he figures he’ll copy the map onto the first scrap of paper he finds in his bag. Then, it’s time to turn his comms off until it’s closer to the agreed time lest it dies on him beforehand, and leaves him unable to communicate. He’ll get a new model later in the day and that should at least solve some of his current problems.

It’s been years since he’s been back to the city. After spending the last half decade on a variety of “offshore, off-planet, off the record” projects, he’s gained enough credibility for a promotion. Alongside, well, enough radiation and stomach-turning experiences to definitely shorten his lifespan for a solid decade or two. Urban development has moved quickly though, and he can barely recognise the landmarks around him. He makes it off the station and across the labyrinth of streets until he makes it to the agreed meeting place. He’s still two hours early, but maybe the staff will let him sleep at his table for a while before whoever is meant to debrief him shows up.

The thing is though, when the transfer notice said “meet at this cafe” he expected... well... not a place as fancy as this one. In all his previous years the company didn’t even offer complimentary sandwiches from the service station. The idea that they’d buy him a whole meal at a place like this seemed too far fetched to be true. He was definitely underdressed for the establishment, and he hadn’t slept long enough to have it in him to be charming. So, he rolls with the punches. After all, the whole fake it till you make it approach had been working quite well, and James Cerulean was not above going for a tried and true method.

He’s shown to the reserved table by the cafe staff, and asks to be woken up in an hour. “That should be enough time,” he thinks, “to stare down whoever is doing this interview test and make sure they’re not too nosy about the research”.

Or, at least, that was meant to be the plan.

James had been waiting at his table. Awake only for the last half an hour, but having spent every minute looking at the clock - morning meetings were never his thing and he regretted not having chosen the 6pm option instead. The minute wand hit the hour, and perfectly on cue the cafe doors opened, and a figure made a beeline towards his table.

He recognises her in an instant. Ember Wetherly, one of the most renowned mech pilots this side of the galaxy. An old ~~friend~~ ~~nemesis~~ acquaintance.

“Mr. Cerulean?” she asks, but it’s clear she recognises him.

There’s so many things he wants to tell her. To congratulate her for her piloting achievements in the past few years. To ask about what life has been like for her after graduation. Say how relieved he is seeing a familiar face in what has very clearly become an unfamiliar city. However, James has never known how to be nice to Ember, and his brain was not going to let him start now. So instead, he replies with:

“I kind of expected them to at least send a corporate pencil pusher to lecture me on my new position and inter-company relations, but seeing as how they sent you, it seems they’ll send just about anyone. My, management standards have truly dropped in the past few years, haven’t they?”

“Well, you’re going to have to get used to it Jimmy. As of this moment, I’m technically your superior, and I don’t have time for whatever old fashioned preconceptions you brought with you from the outer rim.”

She didn’t seem too fazed at his initial response, almost as if she had expected him to be this way. He sighs and looks at the ceiling for a second.

“Oh, I also hope you don’t mind” Ember continues, “but I took the liberty of ordering for us in advance” and right on cue, their waiter arrives with their order.

It’s his favourite coffee. He doesn’t know how she knows that. All he knows is that being surprised would not play to his advantage.

So he drinks it.

And he doesn’t say thanks.

——————————————

It’s been three years since he’s moved to the city, and the time has gone by in what seems like a blink of an eye. Work goes smoothly. Only some of the experiments make his stomach turn, and he gets to sleep a decent amount most weeks. The only real downside is having to keep reporting back to Ember.

In all honesty, James has no idea how things ended up this way. They’re only officially meant to meet once every quarter with his reports, 15 to 30 minutes max. Quick and easy and done. Things never seem to end up like they’re “meant to be” though; at least not for him.

They always meet at the same cafe, same table, at the same time. Three times a week for the past two years. So often in fact, that none of his coworkers believe he’s not a morning person.

Today he sits opposite Ember, trying to focus on the details of the story she’s trying to tell him. She laughs as she tries to retell the story and he can’t help but smile.

According to their shared calendar, it’s his turn to buy the coffee.

They both drink it; neither of them has ever said thanks.


End file.
